


and I never was smart with love

by louis_quatorze



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, are you really in this fandom if you don't write a post-breach fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22353079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louis_quatorze/pseuds/louis_quatorze
Summary: So it was probably about 24 hours later, more or less, after at least 16 hours of sleep, a shower that tested the Shatterdome’s capabilities, and consuming what felt like the entire contents of the mess hall, that Newton Geiszler finally made his way to Herman Gottlieb’s door.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 1
Kudos: 58





	and I never was smart with love

**Author's Note:**

> everyone needs a post-breach fic, and this one is mine.

It was not the first thing he did, once the Breach was sealed and the apocalypse diverted. Nor was it the second. It came later, after he’d spun away to join the celebration, after he’d nearly fallen asleep while holding a shot of what might have been baiju or might have been whiskey or might have been something else altogether, embarrassingly early into the party but consistent with how long he’d been running on pure adrenaline. He’d just about managed to make it to his quarters and strip off his ruined clothing before collapsing onto his bed. 

So it was probably about 24 hours later, more or less, after at least 16 hours of sleep, a shower that tested the Shatterdome’s capabilities, and consuming what felt like the entire contents of the mess hall, that Newton Geiszler finally made his way to Herman Gottlieb’s door. It was, Newt reasoned, as soon as he actually could. This wasn’t a conversation to have while tired, or hungry, or during the most-earned party of his entire life. And he deserved credit for not avoiding the issue entirely.

Avoiding issues was more Hermann’s trait, he decided, as he rang the entrance comm.

“Yes?” 

“It’s me,” Newt snapped into the intercom, and he heard a soft sigh before the door creaked open. 

Hermann was on a couch, leg propped up, and Newt had a flash of remembered pain, a blur of hundreds of moments of it seizing up, of the physical therapy Hermann had neglected since the war got desperate (and somewhat shirked before). He’d never asked about the leg, but knew now it was a sports injury of all things, and the knowledge almost made Newt laugh. 

Almost, because well, that kind of impulse control issue was part of the problem.

Hermann looked calm, hands clasped over his stomach, but Newt could discern the tension in his eyes, the nerves. Easy enough to see if you spent enough time looking at Hermann Gottlieb, cataloging his obvious tells in order to hit just right, to know exactly when he would have the most satisfying reaction to whatever provocation Newt thought of. “What do you want?” he snapped, peevish, and yeah, Newt was right.

Newt fell straight down onto the stool next to Hermann’s couch. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Hermann pressed his lips into a line, haughty and annoyed, and Newt would have believed that a few days ago. 

“That you’re in love with me.”

Hermann’s face went through several expressions before settling on a stubborn tilt of his head. “I was hoping on never.”

“Hey!” Newt exclaimed, offended automatically, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. 

“Either we would all be dead within the year,” Hermann continued, seemingly ignoring Newt’s outburst, “or by some miracle, we would defeat the Kaiju, and I could finally move on from this place.”

Newt leaned back on his stool, stung by the weariness in Hermann’s tone. If he was honest, he was hurt. He didn’t like thinking of himself as someone to move on from. He was memorable. He was interesting. He wasn’t a disease to get over. People should be pleased to be in love with him. “Why?” 

“Why?” Hermann glared at Newt, the familiar ‘why are you being an idiot’ expression that he knew so well. “Because from the moment we actually met you have shown nothing but contempt for me and my work. You have made it clear, on multiple occasions, how little regard you have for me and what I do. I am no expert on this subject, but I think I can do better.” 

Newt frowned. “I don’t.”

“You don’t think I can do better?” Hermann asked dryly. 

“No. I mean.” Newt winced, realizing that this was not going in the direction he wanted. Not that he was sure what that was, to be honest, but he was pretty sure when he’d marched down here he hadn’t intended for Hermann to tell him how much of an asshole he was. “I don’t have…I have regard for you.”

“Since when, Newton?” Hermann snapped, sounding tired. 

“Since…always, I don’t know!” Newt ran his hand through his hair, trying to think. Hermann’s memories were fading a bit, and Newt hadn’t really thought to go through more than just the realization that Hermann loved him (it had stood out, the memory of Hermann realizing it, outside on the deck smoking a cigarette after Newt had isolated a particular genomic sequence and celebrated by blasting Robyn’s Body Talk at the highest volume the lab speakers allowed. Newt remembered Hermann disappearing during “Indestructible” and had assumed he’d just annoyed him away, like usual). He tried to recall their history, and it was so strange to see it all from the other side. It wasn’t exactly kind to him. In Hermann’s memories, he was alternately glowing and cutting, seemingly every insult from their entire history available in brilliant detail, moments that Newt remembered as pretty good fuzzy at the edges. He’d known himself capable of quality self-loathing, but he hadn’t realized how stellar Hermann was at it. 

“You know that’s a false statement.” Hermann was frowning himself now, that look that Newt had often referred to as “angry frog” and yeah, he could see where Hermann was coming from, and felt a little ill. “You remember our first meeting as well as I do.” 

Newt did, and now he knew it from multiple sides – how he himself had been dismayed at Hermann’s stereotypical appearance and stilted language, the snobbish sneer to his lip, so much a reminder of everything Newt tried not to be, and how Hermann took that as a rejection, because how couldn’t it be? Newt hated how stupid he had been. He hated how stupid he still was. He’d been so afraid. “Yeah. Yeah. I know. It sucked. Sorry. I was an asshole as a kid.” 

“You were twenty-seven. Scarcely a child.” 

“Yeah.” Newt picked at his cuticle, unable to look at Hermann. Nothing Hermann said was wrong. Hermann, for all Newt’s picking, was rarely, if ever, wrong. He was too much of a perfectionist for that, too smart, too stubborn, too good at what he did. “Guess I’m just an asshole.” 

Hermann’s face hadn’t lost the angry frog look, but it was now matched with a sharp gaze that Newt recognized from hundreds of arguments. It rarely bode well. “Why are you here, Newton?”

And that was the question, the one he couldn’t quite answer, other than that he’d felt he had to talk about this with Hermann, that he couldn’t just let it go. He shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time?”

Hermann muttered something that Newt didn’t catch, but was sure wasn’t complementary, and crossed his arms, glaring at Newt with all the force he could muster. “If you don’t have anything to add, then please, gloat somewhere else. You’ll be rid of me soon enough.” 

Newt opened his mouth, then closed it. He knew he should. Hermann deserved that. He’d saved the world. He deserved to move on with his life, get back to his stars and numbers, find someone who would treat him right. Someone who’d be nice to him, who wouldn’t pick at everything he did, who’d just know Hermann as a hero of the war and brilliant mathematician and not someone who used his teabags twice and listened to schlager and threw chalk. Someone who’d never have to see Hermann at his worst, who’d he’d never got into a screaming match with at three in the morning after a Kaiju had killed two more pilots and they were running out of Jaegers, who would never know how truly infuriating, and truly brave, he could be. Who would never have to know those things about Hermann. 

Hermann deserved that, and Newt couldn’t bring himself to get up. “Hermann – “ 

“Please,” Hermann said, pained, and that was when Newt kissed him. 

There was a moment when Hermann leaned into the kiss, parting his lips with a soft sigh, but it was quick. Just a moment and Hermann was pulling back, pushing his fingertips against Newt’s chest. “Don’t,” he murmured, his voice unsteady.

Newt pulled back, stung, feeling awkward. “I’m sorry.”

“Gott.” Hermann turned away, eyes shut. Newt could see the muscles in his jaw working, tight and tense. “Please don’t be cruel, Newton. Just give me that, at least.” 

“I…” Newt hesitated. He wanted to say something, make things right, explain himself, but he wasn’t sure how. He wasn’t sure what he was doing or why he was doing it. He just knew that he wanted in an inchoate mass of a way. He wanted to kiss Hermann, he wanted to stay with him, he wanted Hermann by his side in the fuzzy version of the future that was all he could conjure up. He didn’t have the clarity he remembered in Hermann’s memories, the way that everything snapped into focus for him, that he could put into words everything that he felt. It would make things easier. It was not, however, very much Newton Geiszler, so it made some kind of sense that Newt didn’t have it. “I’m not being cruel,” he finally said, rubbing his suddenly-sweaty palms on his jeans. 

“Then what are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” Newt admitted with a weak chuckle, because he couldn’t think of a better thing to say. “I just…I wanted to kiss you. So I did.”

Hermann ran his hand over his face exasperatedly, but Newt could tell that there was a slight shift in his expression by the time his long fingers reached his thin lips. “Do you ever think things through?”

Newt shrugged, starting to feel a little more hopeful. “Not really.” 

“Right.” Now it was Hermann’s turn to fidget. “So.”

“Can I kiss you again?” Newt asked. He still wasn’t sure what, exactly, he was doing. But he knew what he wanted, and that had brought him this far. That had to count for something. 

Hermann stared at him, looking lightly baffled, a small crease appearing between his eyes. “What?” he asked, as if the mere concept was bizarre. 

“I want to kiss you again,” Newt said, firmer now that he’d at least settled on a course of action. “And then, I guess, we’ll see?” 

Hermann shut his eyes with a sigh, but couldn’t obscure the slight uptick of his mouth. “Fine.” 

Newt grinned, and did.

**Author's Note:**

> (uprising don't interact)


End file.
